


Sometimes All You Need Is Quiet

by toxicbalance



Series: Even Broken Wings Can Learn to Fly [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (it's not explicit in the fic but enjolras is somewhere on the ace spectrum), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Asexual Character, Community: makinghugospin, Cuddles, Emotionally Abusive Parent, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, M/M, but it's true, i wasnt sure how to work that in, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicbalance/pseuds/toxicbalance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it’s all Grantaire can do to stop himself from crying. Sometimes he just curls into himself on his bed, back to the door, and lets his control go. His shoulders shake and sometimes he doesn’t even cry (it takes too much effort to even do that see he can’t even be upset correctly). All he can do is hope that no one opens his door, because he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. </p><p>He hasn’t felt this way in awhile. He knows he should have known it wouldn’t last, that it had been too good for too long. But then his dad calls, and the balance he tried so hard to reach shatters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes All You Need Is Quiet

Sometimes it’s all Grantaire can do to stop himself from crying. Sometimes he just curls into himself on his bed, back to the door, and lets his control go. His shoulders shake and sometimes he doesn’t even cry (it takes too much effort to even do that see he can’t even be upset correctly). All he can do is hope that no one opens his door, because he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He hasn’t felt this way in awhile. He knows he should have known it wouldn’t last, that it had been too good for too long. But then his dad calls, and the balance he tried so hard to reach shatters.

He gets the call Thursday, just as he’s leaving his last class of the evening. His phone buzzes in his bag. Grantaire fumbles for it in his bag, expecting it to be Courfeyrac calling to invite him to join him and Bahorel at the Corinthe Pub in town, and because of that he doesn’t remember to check the name on the screen when he picks up.

“Hey Courf-” Grantaire gets cut off by his father’s harsh (such a contrast to his own, rarely, joyful voice) voice.  “Grantaire.” R almost stops in the middle of the street but keeps walking when a car honks at him.

“Hi Dad. How’s it going?” He hopes that for once they won’t wind up fighting (though he knows that it’s probably inevitable).

“It’s good. What have you been doing lately?” Grantaire almost doesn’t want to answer, it’s rare that he can ever answer his dad without upsetting him.

“I was just leaving my class when you called. It ran late tonight, that’s why I couldn’t pick up when you called earlier.” Grantaire had heard his phone buzz several times in the last 10 minutes of class but assumed that it was one of his friends, but judging from his dad’s voice it was him instead. “My professor kept us late, he was critiquing some of the other students’ paintings. There’s going to be a gallery show for his classes on Sunday. My art piece wasn’t chosen for it but-” For the second time in as many minutes, his dad cuts him off.

“If you aren’t in it, then why should I come?” His dad’s voice is flat, like the answer is obvious.

“Well, I’ve seen the paintings that were chosen and they are really good.”

“Why wasn’t one of your paintings chosen?” His dad’s voice changes

“It must have been because the other paintings were better, the artists more talented.”

“Did you even try?” Grantaire knows he shouldn’t be upset with this question. He should have known it was coming.

“I did try, Dad. I know though that they deserved to be chosen. Those students are much better at painting then I am and my professor likes painting a lot more than sketching.”

“If you know that students at college are more talented than you, then why do you think that you can make it?” Grantaire clenches the hand not holding his phone into a fist. Of course his dad has to cut straight to the heart of his insecurities.

“I know that I can do this. I know this is what I want to do.” Before Grantaire can say anything else, his dad interrupts him.

“You won’t succeed, you know that. You never try hard enough. You quit your painting class at school and you stopped going to the art classes at the community center. Why should I keep funding your education when you always quit halfway through?” The line goes dead as his father hangs up.

Grantaire’s hands shake and he almost drops his keys when he tries to open his door. He stops and leans his forehead against the door, just trying to control his breathing so he doesn’t start crying in the hallway. He tries again and somehow he hears the click as the door unlocks through the roaring in his ears. Grantaire drops his keys and bag on the floor as he stumbles to his bedroom, narrowly avoiding bumping into the furniture on the way.

He pushes the door to his bedroom open and curls up shaking on his bed. He wishes he wouldn’t cry but he can feel the tell tale burning behind his eyes right before he loses control and the dam breaks. His tears run sideways across the bridge of his nose and onto his pillow. He shakes and shakes and shakes and wishes that his life was different. wishes that his father believed in him (and isn’t that hypocritical of him). But he wishes more that he believed in himself.

Grantaire barely hears the front door click open but when the person pushes open his door, he just curls in on himself even more. He hears Enjolras’ footsteps pause (in the doorway he assumes (and isn’t it sad that he can recognize his Apollo from just his footsteps) but he can’t bring himself to move, at least not yet) and then continue. Grantaire feels Enjolras standing over him but Grantaire can’t even bring himself to look up at his boyfriend (can’t bear the fact that there is probably a look of disgust on Enjolras’ face because R knows how ugly he looks when he cries). The slight shifting of the bed when Enjolras sits down surprises him.

“What’s wrong?” At Enjolras’ question, Grantaire just cries harder because it sounds so ridiculous even inside his head that such a short stupid conversation with his dad could do this. Enjolras tentatively covers Grantaire’s shoulder with his hand, not knowing if Grantaire wants to be touched right now or not. R can’t stop himself from pressing back into the hand and he hopes that Enjolras will get the unspoken message.

If he wasn’t already crying, Grantaire would cry why when Enjolras seems to read his mind (and Grantaire really really hopes he can’t because his mind is so fucked up and it hurts when his own brain turns against him) and runs his hand down his shoulder and side and back up again. Slowly Enjolras’ hand moves to running slow and steady down Grantaire’s spine, and even if it doesn’t stop his crying it grounds him (reminding him that he is human that he isn’t just some jumbled ball of insecurities and fears). Enjolras shifts away from Grantaire for a moment and Grantaire almost whines when Enjolras moves away. But then Enjolras is resettling himself against the wall with Grantaire’s head in his lap and one hand resting in Grantaire’s hair and the other on his shoulder.

Grantaire doesn’t want to get Enjolras’ jeans wet (doesn’t want to ruin something else) but the feeling of Enjolras’ hand in his hair and his leg under his cheek is too nice for him to try to give up (no matter how much he tells himself to move his body betrays him and stays where it is). Enjolras runs his hand through Grantaire’s hair, slowly smoothing the curls out until there are no knots. Grantaire’s breathing slows and returns almost to normal and the tears stop falling in streams but don’t stop entirely, instead they fall one by one in isolation. Grantaire turns and presses his face further into Enjolras’ thigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Enjolras’ voice is quiet, measured. Grantaire shakes his head and doesn’t say anything (doesn’t trust himself to speak) but he hopes that Enjolras will stay. When Grantaire feels Enjolras shift under his head, he almost moves to stop him, but then Enjolras is sliding down the bed to get closer to him. Grantaire closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to see Enjolras’ face right now (doesn’t want to see what his eyes will say because no matter how cold Enjolras might be his feelings are always in his eyes). He lets Enjolras shift him a bit so that one of Enjolras’ hands is combing through his hair and the other is stroking the strip of skin between his shirt (he thinks it might be the one he stole from Enjolras in freshman year after he first spent the night that he still hasn’t returned and doesn’t know if he ever will) and his jeans.

Grantaire lets the quiet fall around them (to be honest no matter how loud he is when around everyone else he always loves the quiet and its sound and feeling and the way it falls like a blanket around him). He knows that eventually one of them is going to say something but until then he just cherishes the feeling and warmth (not just the physical warmth no matter how dumb that sounds but the warmth of being surrounding by acceptance and care) of his boyfriend wrapped around him and his fingers gently running through his hair and the fingers (hot almost too hot but not really because R likes the warmth of another living person and Enjolras always runs hotter than most) burning against the bare skin of his back.

Grantaire presses closer to Enjolras and hopes that his boyfriend can stay with him tonight, because he doesn’t feel up to being alone right now. His hands must tighten in the soft cotton of Enjolras’ shirt because Enjolras pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his forehead. Grantaire fists one hand Enjolras’ shirt and lets the other drift down to pull the hand at his back forward so he can tangle his fingers with his boyfriend’s. Enjolras reads the gesture as what it was meant to be and presses another kiss to Grantaire’s forehead.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me, I promise”

Grantaire almost cries again at the softness of Enjolras’ voice and ducks his head to lean against Enjolras’ collarbone. Enjolras slowly untangles his fingers from Grantaire’s (and he checks with Grantaire before doing it and if the situation was different Grantaire would kiss him for it) to wrap the hand around Grantaire’s back again, it goes back to stroking along his spine and alternates between that and running across the strip of skin at the small of his back.

The combined movements of the hand in his hair and the hand on his back lull Grantaire to sleep.

(when Grantaire wakes up Enjolras will still be there wrapped around him)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr (30mychemnarglesfalloutatthedisco.tumblr.com)


End file.
